What Rests With Family
by Ezzaria26
Summary: Even if it makes me cry, or I find myself speechless, I have to tell her what I remember of him. She never had a proper family even though I know he would've loved her as much as I do. I miss him. I love him. It makes me realize what rests with family.


**So, after reading so many Vaughn and Chelsea fanfictions, there have been so many ideas popping into my head. While I read the stories I made a proclamation. "I am going to write my own, and there shall be awesomeness, and fan girls who have fallen in love with a certain silver-haired, purple-eyed cowboy and a red/brown haired, blue-eyed rancher couple will all go 'Squeeeeeeee!' because the two shall be together!" And that was proclamation, that is my goal, and here is the story. Though, uh… I'm sorry to say that the proclamation might have to be fulfilled in a different story, as you will soon see.**

**After a disclaimer of course.**

**Disclaimer- Harvest Moon and its characters are not mine. If it was, I would make it so that my rancher had infinite energy so I could friggin' water my crops without passing out!**

**Now for the story.**

"Sunny Island had been growing more popular, and though there weren't many residents, there were visitors. Each one left with a smile that was just a bright brighter, or a walk with a little more skip per step. The island had that affect on people apparently.

"It made me happy, living here that is. The air was fresh, the animals were happy, and the island had all the seasons plus nice neighbors inhabiting it. Living in the city, with only one nice neighbor out of a hundred in the apartment building, I was grateful for the kind-hearted souls here. My crops grew, my cows gave me milk, my chickens gave me eggs, and when I sheered the sheep, it was the softest wool around.

"Of course, they don't just pop out of nowhere. No, a tall, foreboding man delivered them to the island.

"He had silver hair that was messy, believe me. If I had it my way, I'd attack him with a brush and wouldn't let him leave each morning until those tangles were finally out of the way… That was part of the reason he had his hat. No need to brush your hair if you wore something over it, right?

"He was one of the few people on the island, the only one actually, who was not nice to everyone. He didn't snap at them unless he was working, but the real problem was that he didn't actually talk to them normally, which did limit the snapping quite a bit.

"When we were still getting neighbors, I remembered running to him enthusiastically with my watering can and smiling at him saying "Hey, I'm the rancher here! The name's Chelsea. And you are?"

"No one's scowl could compare to Vaughn's. It was the deepest one I've ever seen. "Go away. You're distracting."

"That was it, just four words. Still, I had to look on the bright side. One, it was three more words than what he gave most people, and even then, you couldn't consider 'hmph' a word really.

"Two, Vaughn was just pretending. I knew he couldn't fool me. His amethyst eyes, hidden though they were under that black Stetson of his, showed a shy but very kind guy.

"At first he left with his frown a bit deeper, not looking forward to returning to the island with the stupid name. His steps would be heavy, for he was now more worried about coming back later.

"But soon that all changed. I'd been learning to cook and porridge was what I made, with milk from Daffodil, my first calf. She wasn't my first cow, but she was May's calf, and so she was the first cow I had actually raised from birth.

"Anyway, Vaughn was walking around, bored no doubt, and we were now on a 'hello' basis, meaning even if we didn't have a conversation, we'd say hi when we passed each other. I was determined for someone to try my porridge, and he was there first. So I went over to say hello.

""Hey Vaughn!" I greeted, smiling broadly as I ran over with the covered bowl in my hands, a spoon in the other.

"Vaughn glanced up, looking irritated that I was interrupting what I would guess was his deep thinking. Right. He was bored. But he shrugged, gave a sigh, and managed to murmur "Hello, Chelsea." There was a hint of pink on his cheeks as he lowered his Stetson over his eyes, but at the time my mind didn't catch on.

""Want to try something I made? I'm still learning, so I need someone to tell me if it tastes good," I explained, nodding to the bowl in his hands.

"He frowned. "No thanks. I'm not hungry," he mumbled. But his stomach begged to differ, giving a roar to prove his statement wrong. This time his whole face turned pink, and there was no way for me not to notice that.

"I smirked. "Right. Here, close your eyes and tell me how this is," I instructed. Not able to deny his hunger, Vaughn gave in and closed his eyes, opening his mouth slightly. I uncovered the bowl, slipped the spoon in, and when it had some porridge on it, I put it in his mouth.

"The moment the porridge hit his tongue, his eyes shot open. I thought it was bad, and was about to cover the bowl back up and go back to make more, but he stopped me from doing anything before swallowing and licking his lips. "Amazing…" he murmured.

""Would… you like… more?" I inquired, putting forth the bowl.

"Without even thinking, he took it from me with a rare smile and devoured the whole thing. I watched as the normally stiff and expressionless cowboy licked the spoon and bowl.

"When he saw me staring at him, he stared down at the bowl and spoon, then blushed again. "Sorry… Uh… It was very good. Thank you, Chelsea," he muttered.

""Glad you liked it. Here, I have more at home. You can have that too, if you're still hungry. That was a small bowl," I offered, putting forth a hand. He was going to deny, but his stomach would hear none of it, giving a small rumble. I chuckled, and he shyly took my hand as I lead him to my house on the ranch, where he ate the rest. "You can call me Chel, by the way."

"And so he did. Every Wednesday I made him porridge when he arrived. He always nodded with a "Thank you, Chel." And a blush, my favorite part of all… He seemed… he seemed so emotionless to everyone… But I… but I… I knew he was… Vaughn was…"

Suddenly, I couldn't find the will to speak. Suddenly, I couldn't find my voice. Suddenly, I couldn't find my heart. And suddenly, I realized I was crying.

A set of skinny arms, tan like mine but still growing and not yet as long as they should be, squeezed me tightly around my midsection. I had hugged her and ran my hands up and down her back rhythmically as I tried to quench her curious thirst to know about the man that had brought me everything, that had loved me for all of me, that had been the world to me.

Not that she didn't have a right to know. Fourteen-years-old and still not knowing everything she should've been told. I'd always wondered why I hadn't told her sooner.

But as the tears rolled down my cheeks and the sobs racked my body, I realized I still wasn't over him.

A shy smile was on the girl's face as she looked up at me with those amethyst eyes of hers. Correction, those amethyst eyes of his. "He wasn't the stiff, unemotional cowboy everyone thought he was, right?"

I nodded, burying my head in her long brown locks that were the same shade as mine, if not slightly lighter. "Exactly, Samantha. That's exactly what I knew and no one else did. Not even Auntie Julia or Grandma Mirabelle," I assured her.

"Mom…" Samantha suddenly spoke up again through the silence that was beginning to grow. I gave a small 'hmm' to show I had heard her. So, she continued. "How did he die?"

I bit my lip at this question. How could one answer the question without crying out, shouting, screaming, throwing something, or losing it all together? A sigh escaped my lips. "Sam… your friend Emily, you know how her mother's been missing for the past fifteen years?" Slowly, my daughter nodded, not quite sure where this was going. "Well…" My throat tightened, nearly forbidding the words to leave. "She's not missing."

Samantha whirled to look at me in shock. "What does that have to do wi_"

"She's in prison." There. It was out in the open. It hung in the air. "Sabrina Rook was arrested fifteen years ago." No sound left Sam's throat. She was as speechless as I had been when I first found out. Just like my reaction when she first asked about Vaughn. "You see… Sabrina also loved him. She didn't marry him. No. She married William Rook, who really loved her dearly, she even became pregnant with his child, Emily Isabella Rook. She wanted to have an affair with Vaughn, however. She didn't want Emily. She didn't want Vaughn's heart. But… when she found out I was pregnant with you… When she found out he wasn't budging, that you were mine as well as his… she…" My tears had momentarily stopped, but now they sprung to life once more, showing themselves in a single tear sliding unceremoniously down my left cheek. "She went crazy. She… she shot him. Of course, everyone knew it was her. But the police couldn't really arrest her until she gave birth to Emily. Well, when Emily did come, Sabrina realized she wanted her daughter. She wanted her husband. She shouted how Vaughn wasn't worth it. How he wasn't worth anything to anyone. How she had done everyone a favor. How she had done her family a favor by doing what she did… The nerve." My fists started to shake, clenched against Samantha's back. Her purple eyes widened as she looked at my suddenly furious face. "The nerve that woman had. She takes his life and then realizes he wasn't even worth the trouble. How she doesn't care either way. She dared…" For a moment, there was fear in my precious daughter's eyes. But I shook my head. "Still… love can do crazy things to a person. I refuse to be mad at Sabrina. I… I refuse. She couldn't have Vaughn and she can't have the satisfaction of knowing she's gotten back at me, her supposed rival."

Samantha glared in the distance where Emily's house surely was. "Emily… I'll… No. She-she's a demon. I can't believe_"

"No, Samantha!"

Sam turned to look at me once time, this time utterly shocked. "Mother?"

I repeatedly shook my head at her words. "Emily doesn't know. Emily thinks her mom is missing. Emily is innocent. Sam, you can't be mad at her for what her mother did. For what Sabrina did."

Sam's mouth dropped. Then a thought dawned on her, and she buried her head in my shoulder. "It must've hurt…"

I looked down at the top of her brunette head with a frown on my face. "To see the child of the one who killed my love get along with my own daughter as if they were sisters? No. To know that the love I had and the life I had desired to lead with Vaughn lead to a man losing his wife, to a woman losing her husband, to two children losing two very important role models in their life? Yes," I answered after a moment. "I don't want you to stop being friends with Emily though because of your elders' actions."

Sam jerked backwards, out of my embrace. She was clearly appalled by what had left my mouth. "It wasn't your fault!" she insisted.

"I know it wasn't necessarily our fault. I wouldn't have loved Vaughn any less. I still would've gone with him over all the men on this island, and don't you forget that. I'm glad you're here, Samantha. And he is too. I'm glad that you're part me and part him, just as he is. And most of all, I'm proud to say that he was my lover and that his faults only made him a better man. I'm overjoyed to admit that he held my heart, just as I held his," I assured her confidently.

Samantha looked like she wanted to say something. But then, the idea died. Instead, she simply fell forward, resting her head on my lap this time, eyes staring at the ceiling, or perhaps at the sky that she would've seen if the ceiling weren't there. Perhaps where the man we spoke of now was waiting for us. "Mom…" Sam's voice sounded hesitant, but I stroked her hair softly in response. "Would… W-would he… N-n-no… I mean… Would he have liked me?" Her voice quivered.

A sad smile crossed my face as I stood up, moving her head so it now rested on her pillow instead of my lap. "He would've been honored to say you were his daughter, Samantha Imagine (Ema-jean) Holt. He would've loved you nearly as much as I do, because we both know no one can love you more than me… Actually, Vaughn would've found a way to love you more than one could think possible. Vaughn would've enjoyed taking you out to the barn before you even knew how to speak," I murmured to her.

"You already did that last part," Samantha objected softly.

I shook my head. She had a lot to learn about Vaughn Lucas Holt. Somehow, I'd have to find the courage to tell her. "I wouldn't have done it if it weren't for the fact that he would've done it if he was here. Believe me, if I had it my way, I'd sneak you carrots under the table, seeing as Vaughn despised them so," I informed her.

Samantha eyed me. "You did that, too," she reminded me.

"Best of both worlds, sweetheart. Your father never ate a vegetable," I muttered in her ear. "But believe me when I tell you he would've set out to make you smile every day. He did for me, and I can see him, as straight-faced as he is, teaching you all those things I had to teach you alone, all the while laughing. How to ride a horse, how to milk a cow, how to go fishing, how to go mining… Okay, he might not have wanted me to teach you the last one, but you are my daughter too." Sam grinned, even if her eyes were watering like mine, and hugged me tightly.

"Thanks, Mom," she said, falling back onto her pillow.

After turning off her lights, I waited until her soft breathing hit my ears. Knowing she was asleep, my feet shuffled across the wooden floor of the farm house as quietly as possible. There was no need to wake her up. She had a lot to think over at the moment.

Leaving the house was easy. Vaughn had been a heavy sleeper, surprisingly, and his daughter had inherited the trait. What was difficult was making that long, familiar, lonely, painful trek I made every day I ever spoke his name.

So really, I went there ever single night since… well… since then.

_The day I reveal my deepest, darkest secret to you will be the day I take off my hat and leave it off for the whole day._

A knowing expression crossed my face. Now I knew what he had meant by that. The day he took off his hat, he blushed every time he saw me, he smiled every time I spoke to him, and he couldn't help looking for me. That day had been one of the happiest days of my life. That was the day he and I mounted onto my horse Trickster, dead now but having left me with a rather pretty foal named Charm in her place, and he took me to the mountain and admit that he loved me. When I asked if he ever planned to actually marry me or if I should just give up, he passed me a letter, telling me not to give up, almost as if he had read my mind. At the end he had written that he wanted to marry me. Next week of all days!

So, just as I had that day, I mounted Charm, who looked like a mirror image of her mother, and rode off towards the mountain that Vaughn had taken me to.

The ride was quiet. The ride brought back the memories of me asking him where we were going and if he was going to formally apologize for emptying my fridge of all my porridge, milk and chocolate, causing him to stammer and blush bright red.

Finally, I arrived at the top of the mountain, standing on the edge of one of the cliffs and staring out into the distance, realizing with a pang in my heart that today would've been our seventeenth anniversary, at this very moment as the moon was just passing the ridge of the cliff.

Staring at the mound of earth, I collapsed in front of the grave. Not a single tear left my eyes this time. My sapphire eyes remained clear and dry. But, they still lingered on the white handkerchief he had always worn around his neck, which was now laid out over the grave's surface, four horse shoes keeping it from flying away. My face expressionless like his sometimes was, I put the black Stetson hat right in the middle.

Here, at this very place, with this very hat sitting between us to disguise the blue feather, he had proposed.

Here, at this very place, with those four very horse shoes, we had galloped up here once again on our third anniversary so I could tell him I was pregnant with Samantha.

Here, at this very place, with this very handkerchief, I had wiped my eyes as I cried out in anguish, watching them bury his body.

And it was here, at this very place, that I left his hat every night, only to come retrieve it in the morning.

I knew Vaughn would want me to move on, just like in all those cliché soap operas back on the mainland. I knew it looked like I had indeed moved on. But I hadn't. Somewhere deep inside, my heart just couldn't locate the strength to give up on Vaughn, dead or alive.

Silence enveloping me in its cold, ruthless grip, I got on Charm once more and departed the place that held so many smiles and squeals of joy. Blushing faintly, I remembered that I had brought Vaughn here to tell him I was pregnant because, whether he realized it or not, I had this feeling deep down that Samantha had been conceived here. Shaking my head free of those thoughts, I returned home, leading Charm to her stable and slipping under the covers of the large and empty bed.

When morning came, I got up unhappily, knowing I'd have to go and once more fetch the hat.

For eight years things went on like this. Samantha was now married, and I was once again content with life and truly happy for Samantha when she had walked down the aisle with William Rook escorting her, with her maid-of-honor, Emily Rook, giving her the ring she'd need as well as a tissue as she married Denny and Lanna's son, Joseph. I had smiled when she told me that. How nice that Samantha had fallen for the son of her father's best friend. I bet he smiled at that up in heaven.

Once again I had fallen asleep though, after making the trek up to the mountain. I had yet again left his beloved cowboy hat sitting there.

I woke up expecting a long ride on my trusted mare to go get the precious possession, only to discover my daughter and son-in-law standing outside my door. Smiling softly, I allowed them inside my household, giving them both a glass of water to be polite. After going through all the common pleasantries, Sam glanced at her husband, and Joseph nodded, excusing himself for some fresh air. I looked at my daughter expectantly, eyebrows raised.

Samantha fidgeted slightly before releasing a puff of air. "I'm going to name him Vaughn," she said, voice soft but strong at the same time as she rubbed her stomach.

"Sam!" I managed to respond smiling happily as tears fell down my cheeks, happy ones for once. I gave her a hug and congratulated her, but she had more to say.

"Mom… there's something else," she began. I stiffened, sitting quickly in realization. Her voice had changed. Things were serious. Something had happened. "I've never heard Dad's voice… But I think I did last night… in a dream. He told me where to look. I'm supposed to give this to you." She picked up a parcel and passed it to me. I stared at it curiously before hesitantly beginning to peel away the brown paper it was wrapped in. Her father's voice? Vaughn? No… could it be? "I know it sounds crazy, but…" She stopped speaking as the paper fell away. There, now sitting in the middle of the table, was a black Stetson hat, filled with a set of horse shoes, a folded white kerchief, and a long piece of paper rolled up. Unrolling it, I gasped.

An extravagant blue feather fell out, one with a silver ring complete with two amethysts and a diamond attached to the end of it.

I stared at the letter and the feather in wonder.

_You don't need to give up on me, Chel._

_Marry me? Next week?_

I continued to stare, eyes wide in disbelief. Where had she found this letter? How could this happen? This was impossible! No, nothing was impossible. Not with Vaughn. Not with us.

And that's when my heart registered something. Next came my mind. Suddenly, I felt lighter. "Thank you for giving this to me, sweetheart," I said quickly.

Sam nodded, smiling at my happy expression. "No problem. What does the letter say, anyway?" she inquired.

I shook my head. "That's my secret. Though, you'll find out in eight days I suppose, when all the paper work is done," I told her confidently.

Sam looked thoroughly confused at my statement. If it were me, I imagine I'd be pretty confused myself. "O…kay?"

"Congratulations on the baby, Samantha. I'm sure he'll be handsome and amazing, just like you and Joseph. But, unfortunately I'm going to be pretty busy for the next few days. Let's meet up in a week, okay? My house? Eight o'clock?"

Samantha looked scared. Perhaps she knew. But then, she nodded, saying she had to go get Joseph so they could tell Denny and Lanna, and then she was gone. I sighed, getting out a piece of paper on my own. Samantha would be receiving the farm, if she wanted it. But she had to have the journal under my pillow. As childish as it sounds, she had to read it. Otherwise she'd never know what was in the letter. She'd never truly know how I felt about her father, or how he would've felt if he had ever gotten the chance to meet his daughter.

Late into the night I stayed up writing on the paper. But, when it was finally done, I signed it and mailed it off. Hopefully, they'd approve it. I didn't have time to deal with the law at the moment.

The next week passed in a blur, and on the day I promised to meet my child and her spouse, I found myself resting on the bed, a couple belongings being clutched in my hands under the blankets. I stared at the ceiling, or, as my daughter had done eight years ago when I told her of her deceased father, through it and into the sky, where he was. When there was a knock on the door, I merely shouted for them to come in and that I was waiting in the bedroom.

When Samantha entered, Joseph at her side, she cried out, running to my side. "Mother? Mother, are you okay?"

I nodded. "I'm fine, Sam. I just wanted to see you today," I told her.

Samantha's purple eyes and Joseph's blue eyes bulged when they both thought the same thing. "You're not…?" they both started, but neither had the heart to finish.

I nodded. "I am. But I needed to tell you a few things first," I began. They both nodded, silencing themselves. I pulled out the blue feather Sam had given me seven days before. "When Vaughn is old enough and has a special girl in mind, give this to him. It may not look it, but it is lucky. Our marriage, no matter how short it was, was full of joy, peace, trust, friendship, honesty and trust. We were blessed, and if your father hadn't have passed on, I can assure you we would've been married until the day we both were old and our laps full of grandchildren. But, at least I'm leaving knowing you guys haven't failed. I expect several more where that came from," I teased. Sam and Joseph blushed at the same time, though they did accept the feather. With a nod I continued. "Live long, be happy, and trust and love each other. Tease Aunt Julia about hating fish now that you've married a fisherman, eat your carrots, make sure Vaughn eats his, and sing in the shower. You may have gotten your father's singing talent, Samantha, but Joseph's mother was a pop star and he can cover up for all your off-key notes. And yes, I'm not the opera singer myself, but your father couldn't even carry a tune. Hm… Oh, right, since you're here and so is the paper… Here's the will." I pulled out the paper, passing it to Sam to read. "The farm is yours if you want it, as well as whatever I wrote last weak. If I left Natalie, Lanna or Denny all my fortune that was a misprint and you tell the lawyers so. The money goes towards those roads. Gannon's son-in-law, Charlie, you'll want to take that up with him. Chen will supply the wonderfuls if his son asks, I'm sure."

Joseph chuckled at this. Samantha gave him a look as if to ask 'What are you doing?' He smiled. "My parents always told me you were the government, Ms. Holt, but I didn't really believe them," he explained.

I waved my hand. "Yes, well, how else would this island have stayed together, hm? It's a wonder Vaughn resisted such a hard-working girl as myself for so long," I laughed.

"My father told me that Vaughn said he only married you because you could make porridge," Joseph pointed out.

I arched an eyebrow at that as my daughter giggled, having heard the porridge story. "_Did he_? Well I'll bring that up when I see him in heaven. Now, as I was saying. The will. Be thankful. And I'll just give you the journal now. I'm running out of time and this is important," I said, taking out the last object and passing it to Samantha, who gave Joseph the other two objects so she could hold the red, leather book in her hands. "I started that the first day I got on the island. It's all you'll ever need to know about my days on the island, as well as my memories of your father. I stopped writing in it today. My last entry. Two things to add to that. There's loose sheets of paper in the back that don't match. That's your father's journal. He actually had a diary, but was too manly to admit it. I kept finding his entries, even though they weren't kept in a book, and sticking them in mine. So, I've got all of his too. I made sure, and I read them. On mine, you'll want to skip page… 174. On his, you'll want to skip 69, and I think he made it page 69 for a reason. Yes, those pages are both the same thing and you _will not_, under _any_ circumstances, want to read that unless you want to be scarred."

Samantha's face went cherry red, exactly like her father's famous blush. "Is that what I think it is?"

I raised a finger to point at her. "You made that little child inside you the same way we made you, Sam. I don't wanna hear it," I said in my defense, a stern expression on my face. However, it quickly melted away to reveal a smile.

Samantha nodded. Then, she started to cry as I pulled the sheets up to my shoulders and settled in. "Now?" she asked, biting her tongue so as not to cry, wiping away any hints that her eyes had been wet with tear. Once again, so like her father.

I nodded. "Good luck, Sam. Men are tough to deal with. Good luck, Joey. Pregnant women are sometimes, somehow worse. Hold her hair back when she vomits. I wish my husband could've been there to do that for me. And don't be deceived. Just because it's called morning sickness doesn't mean it's always in the morning," I informed them, sounding rather wise if I do say so myself.

Samantha hugged me tightly. "I'm going to miss you…" she whispered in my ear as Joseph came to put a hand on her shoulder.

I nodded, kissing her cheek. "I know, sweetheart. Don't cry too much. You'll acquire your own awesomeness soon enough. You don't need mine. Joseph is a good guy. He'll take care of you. And, I know I talk a lot and this is going to be cliché, but Sam?" She looked at me, eyes glazing over again. "I love you."

…

For a moment, I was blinded. Everything was white. And yet, it wasn't, because at the same time everything was all the colors of the rainbow. My mind didn't recall there being that many colors, but now there were.

"Chel?"

My blue eyes widened.

Were my ears fooling me?

"Chel? Ranch chick? Are you there?"

Suddenly, it was as if someone had shaken me from a dream. I could see. And there, right before me, was the man I had been longing to see for over two decades. I ran, ran as if my life depended on it, straight into his arms while hiding my face in his brown vest and black shirt. "It's you…" I whispered, noting I was no longer in my forty-something-year-old body, but back in my twenty-year-old figure to match Vaughn's twenty-three-year-old self.

He nodded, once again showing no emotion just like I remembered as he embraced me, pulling me flush against his chest. "Yeah… It's you, too…" he whispered.

I sniffed, unsure as to whether or not I was going to start laughing or bawling now that I had finally been reunited with my favorite silver-haired, purple-eyed, moody cowboy. "I missed you. You're sexier than I remembered. Did you always have the six-pack?" I asked, pulling back to look into his face with a joyful smile appearing of its own accord on my face.

My heart leapt when the most adorable shade of pink began to creep up his face. "I.. I… well… I missed you, too, Chel," he admitted. He didn't have his hat, so there was nothing to hide his face. However, his hand did reach up to grab empty air right about his silver locks.

"Looking for this?" With a flourish I revealed his favorite article of clothing, the black hat that was his second true love. I always wondered if he was cheating on me with it, but when he looked at me with that adoration and thankfulness, I thought better of that idea. However, he still looked pretty shock that I had his "security blanket" and more than likely had the intention not to give it back. "Oh, come on now. I wanna see you smile more often."

Remembering the day as well as I did, he surpassed my expectations and grinned. Yeah. That's right. I meant what I said and I said what I meant. **(yay for Doctor Suess)** He grinned. Not just smiled, but full out grinned. It was blinding.

"Heaven isn't heaven without you, Chel!" he shouted, kissing my full on the lips without warning.

I had to say the same. If he hadn't been there, heaven wouldn't be heaven. After all, what kind of heaven would it be if there wasn't some hot, loner cowboy to make-out with? You know, specifically Vaughn Holt?

Apparently, though, there is still a glitch. Angels, if that's what we are anyway, need to breathe even if they are in heaven. So, we pulled away, staring at each other with breathless grins, so carefree and happy, on our faces. "I've waited for you for so long… but it was worth the wait. You're beautiful, Chel," Vaughn admitted, blush deepening to the cherry red his daughter had worn when I last saw her. Sniffing, about to tear-up for sure, I nodded.

Suddenly, my grin vanished. Vaughn pulled back a bit more, staring at me curiously, arching an eyebrow as if to ask what was wrong. He did not know, but I did. My nose had detected something quite off. "You smell like carrots," I stated plainly.

He blinked. Then his eyes narrowed. "The cooks here are evil," he spat. "They don't know how to make porridge, and they love carrots."

"As does your daughter, but we'll talk of that later. Is that why you were upset? Because there was no porridge in heaven?" I asked, not believing what I was hearing.

Vaughn shook his head furiously. "Of course not! You weren't here! Only you can make good porridge," he admitted.

I narrowed my eyes at him, remember what Joseph had told me. "I've heard through the fishing line **(grape vine, fishing line, get it? … no?)** that you only married me because of my porridge making skills," I accused, poking him square in the chest with my index finger.

His beautiful purple eyes bulged. No! Be strong Chelsea! Just because you haven't seen him in over twenty-years doesn't mean you have lost your touch! You must be mad at him... or, at least... pretend to be mad at him. Even if he was the cutest, handsomest thing to ever walk the earth and now heaven. Even if his utterly confused expression was adorable. Even as he realized his words were digging him his own grave, so to speak. But then he shook his head. "No! That was just a bonus! I'd appreciate the porridge because heaven knows I only want the porridge you make, but really... you have to believe me, Chelsea Vanessa Holt. I've missed you. So much. The wait... it waas unbearable, trust me on this," he whispered, grabbing me by the shoulders and looking at me straight on. I smiled, giggling. His tense muscles relaxed instantly. "You were joking with me weren't you."

My mouth dropped as I saw his fingers twitch. "Maybe..." I started, my voice trailing off. He better not be planning to tickle me. Quick! Chelsea! Be clever! Think yourself out of this one! "So I'm assuming you know about Joseph?"

Vaughn stopped his movements altogether, nodded. I gave a silent sigh of relief. Mission accomplished. Punishment evaded. "I find it funny how our daughter marries my best friend's son. Though I can't say I don't approve. He just better not break her heart. If anyone hurts her..."

A chuckle escaped my mouth and he whirled to look at me. I shook my head. "Samantha wondered if you would've liked her. I'm pretty sure this answers her question."

"Of course I would've liked her! I do like her! I love Sam!"

"I thought so. Did you know she's pregnant with a baby boy?"

Vaughn's face brightened even more at this. "Really?"

My heart pounded in my chest as his breath swept across the outside of my ear. He held me tightly, and there was no way no one could deny he had missed me. "Yeah. A boy they're naming Vaughn." His grip on me tightened.

"You'll have to tell me later," he whispered. I agreed entirely. It was too much to tell while we stood holding each other, reunited at last, in the... room. Wherever the "room" is?

I finally lifted my head and looked around. My mouth dropped in awe. Not a room. Nope. Not even closse. In fact, it was far from just a plain, old, simple, boring, indoor room. No way. It was far better. It was the island. It was our ranch, with the barn and the shed and the chicken coop and the river. A sigh escaped my lips, a happy sigh that is. I had no idea. I was back home again. Returning to look at Vaughn, I gestured all around us. "Home," I said simply. He nodded eagerly. That reminded me of something else. Call me scatter brained, but I had to say it. "You've been acting funny, no offense. I know you're happy to see me, but you seem like you have, uh, too many emotions."

Vaughn pulled, back, chewing the inside of his cheek as he thought. Then his aura went dark. "Too many carrots. Not enough porridge. Not enough Chel either for that matter..." he muttered.

"There you go with the porridge again!"

"Hey! In my defense I said 'not enough Chel either'. See? You were mentioned," Vaughn rebuked.

I rolled my eyes. In fact, my mind had just come up with a come back. Yes, it wasn't a good one. I was just planning to point out that I was mentioned second. But, the chance never came. Instead, a baby's cry split the air. My ears twitched at the familiar sound. That wasn't just any cry. That was Sam's cry, call me crazy. I remember. It was practically engraved in my mind since I was the only one who ever heard it more often than not. "Vaughn, you have one minute to explain why I hear Samantha's cry coming from our house," I whispered.

Vaughn smiled. "A gift from Sabrina," he whispered in my ear. I stared at him, not quite understanding. "She gave it to me herself a while back."

My tan hands flew to my mouth. "You mean_?"

My husband nodded sadly. "She passed away with cancer in jail," he explained. A gasp escaped my lips, but then my blue eyes narrowed. He quickly shook his head. "Heaven's run its course. Will was right to love her for her mind. She realized her mistake. I'm not mad at her. Not after she gave me a chance to raise Samantha here in heaven."

"I'm not sure I understand." I voiced my problem to Vaughn.

He grabbed his hat from me at last, placing it on top of his head. "Sabrina was able to forgive herself for her sins and see where she went wrong. She passed, essentially, and was given a blessing, in a sense. As far as I know, she as given the ability to give on gift. I don't really understand every detail. Not too long ago she told me that when you came, we'd be able to raise Samantha. Except, this time, together. You'll notice how you returned to your younger body, right?" I nodded. "Well, you return to your favorite year of your life, unless the angels say differently. Naturally, we both chose the year where we got married. Eventually, you'll have Samantha again, and we'll raise her. When she dies and Joseph, they'll join this island in their favorite year too., as will everyone else" I bit back a groan at the idea of having Samantha again. It was taking care ofher that was the problem. No. But men didn't understand. Pregnancies. Birthing. Worthwhile the first time. Maybe even the second, but not for me. "Morning" sickness would forever be in my mind.

"Well, seeing as I took care of her all by myself the first time, you get to change her diapers three quarters of the time, guaranteed. Understood?"

Vaughn laughed. "Yes, ma'am. Now, in case you've forgotten, I do believe I proposed to you last week. I take it you said yes?"

I threw back my head and laughed. Really laughed. And believe me, the feeling was good. My soul was practically glowing as I laughed everything away. Laughing was pretty healthy in my opinion. I had missed laughter when I was alone on Earth, taking care of Sam all by myself. "I'd have it no other way," I shouted, kissing him with all the passion I had gathered over the years.

"Happy twenty-fifth anniversary," he murmured.

A giggle escaped my lips. "This all sounds too good to be true," I admitted.

Vaughn shrugged. "You're too good to be true. But you are. In fact, your porridge is_ I mean... uh..." He had stopped his sentence when I shot him a glare at the mention of porridge. "Our love is too good to be true."

Wrapping my hand in his, I nodded. "Good answer. I suppose I owe you porridge now?"

"Chel. You really are an angel."

"Vaughn. You really are a cowboy."

"Hey, I was being nice to you."

"What? You take offense to that? You wear boots and a cowboy hat."

"Well I was giving you a symbolic compliment. You were just stating the obvious."

"Fine. Fine. I got one."

There was silence. "Okay. Shoot. What is it?" he asked.

"Vaughn. You really are a sexy beast."

**Well, that turned out longer than I expected. Did you like it? Did you hate it? I will never know unless you tell me! And, now I bet you understand. I wouldn't call this a total 'SQUEEEEEEEE' moment for fangirls. So this is not the story where my proclamation is fulfilled. Sorry. Well, please review! Thank you for reading.**

**Ezzy**


End file.
